The Further Adventures of Pharaun Mizzrym
by Drow Elf
Summary: Pharaun Mizzrym, Master of Sorcere, has been resurrected by Aliisza. Look out, world.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story picks up on the adventures of Pharaun Mizzrym, a Master of Sorcere. Pharaun debuted in the War of the Spider Queen as a sarcastic, quick-witted, pragmatic, and very powerful mage sent with an elite group to find out why Lolth, the Spider Queen, goddess of the drow, had silenced and not answered her children's prayers.**

**Spoiler Warning!**

**Pharaun's companions were Quenthel Baenre, high priestess of Arach-Tinilith, the training ground for Lolth's priestesses; Valas Hune, scout and guide in the employ of Bregan D'aerthe; Ryld Argith, Master swordsman of Melee-Magthere, training ground for drow warriors, and as close a friend as Pharaun had; Jeggred Baenre, a draegloth, a four-armed, very dangerous half-demon, half-drow, nephew to Quenthel; Halisstra Melarn, whose house fell with the destruction of drow city Ched Nasad, also priestess of Lolth who later converted to Eilistraee; and Danifae, battle-captive to Halisstra, who later escaped captivity and subverted Jeggred to her will.**

**The companions battled their way through innumerable conflicts, often relying on Pharaun's magic as a trump card since the priestesses' divine magic was denied them. The dangers were not only without, however. Being dark elves, betrayal was a way of life, and the group soon split into those who acknowledged Quenthel as leader and those who supported Danifae. Pharaun stood by Quenthel, albeit grudgingly.**

**The group finally made it to the Demonweb Pits. Ryld had been killed earlier by Jeggred on Danifae's orders. Valas had deserted them. In the final battle, Pharaun was slain by being betrayed by Quenthel and being eaten alive by a horde of spiders.**

**Danifae was chosen by Lolth to aid in her resurrection, melding with Lolth, becoming her. Halisstra was doomed to a fate worse than death by serving as a handmaiden. Quenthel was sent home with honor, which she did gladly after slaying Jeggred for his treachery.**

**After it was all said and done, Pharaun's lover, a half-demon named Aliisza, journeyed to the Demonweb Pits and recovered the biggest part of him she could find: a finger with the Sorcere ring on it. With it she flew away, pondering what to do with it.**

**Obviously, that was a super-shortened summary of six fantastic books. You really ought to read them if you haven't already. You'll probably understand this fic a lot better if you do, and it features an awesome battle between archmage Gromph Baenre and a very powerful lichdrow.**

**Enjoy.**

**_The Further Adventures of Pharaun Mizzrym_**

**Chapter One**

_Resurrection_

Many believe they understand pain.

They do not.

Pharaun Mizzrym understood pain. He comprehended the true meaning of it. Scratching yourself against a sharp rock did not produce pain. Breaking an arm did not produce pain. Getting eaten alive by spiders did not produce pain.

Living produced pain.

Life _was_ pain. Pain was everything, quite simply. Pain was the natural order of things. All things not in pain were an abomination, something to be feared and shunned.

Pharaun Mizzrym did not scream.

He was well beyond that.

He had a body. He did not. He had lungs to scream with, no, they were gone, weren't they? He opened his eyes, but they had been plucked out by ravenous spiders. Hadn't they? Then how come he could see?

His sensible mind grappled with the dichotomy. Except his mind was in the grip of chaos; he could not string two thoughts together. He could not even remember his own name.

"Pharaun."

_Huh_?

"Pharaun, honey, come back to me. I'm lonely."

_Aliisza? Wait…who? _Pharaun struggled against the ever-present pain to bring his thoughts into order. He had just thought a name, but he could not remember what it was.

"Pharaun! Wake up! Now!"

Pharaun's eyes snapped open, and the pain burst like a bubble, leaving nothing behind but a hideous memory.

A muffled thud sounded behind him, and he turned to see Aliisza standing over a figure clad in black robes, robes that were drenched in blood.

"My thanks, Memhast, but I'm afraid I actually have no way to pay for this," said Aliisza to the fallen figure. She turned away from him with no further thought.

Pharaun tried to speak, but nothing came out except a strange gurgling sound. _You have to remember to breathe, you idiot_, Pharaun chided himself. He sucked in a deep gulp of hair, wincing as his lungs expanded for the first time. "What…who…?" he managed to get out. His thoughts were still somewhat scattered.

A perfectly manicured fingernail slipped under his chin and forced his eyes up into Aliisza's. "It's okay, Sweetie," she said. "I won't let the mean old spiders get you anymore."

A sudden memory flashed through Pharaun's mind. Millions of tiny legs…countless biting teeth. An involuntary whimper escaped his mouth.

"There, there," cooed Aliisza, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing his face against her bosom. "Nothing's going to hurt you, darling. I'm here. I'm here."

Pharaun couldn't help it; he burst into tears. Several minutes passed; the only sounds were the drow's wracking sobs and the alu-fiend's soft reassurances.

Finally, the mage's weeping subsided, and he made to wipe his tears away on the sleeve of his robe…except he then realized he was naked. He looked up into Aliisza's knowing smile as she got up and crossed the room to the body lying on the floor. Disrespectfully, she tore the robe off the corpse and handed it to Pharaun.

"It's a little bloodstained, I'm afraid, but it'll have to do until we find you something better." She giggled. "Unless you want to try to fit into my clothes, which you're welcome to." She eased herself into her familiar seductive pose.

As it turns out, resurrection does wonders for turning your mind away from baser desires, and Pharaun was in no mood for Aliisza's games. "This'll work," he said, throwing the robe around himself. He slid off the bare table he had been sitting on and began walking toward her. He stumbled and nearly fell. A tingle spread through his legs, like millions of microscopic ants trundling just under his skin.

"Easy there, Tiger," said Aliisza. "This is a brand-new body. It's not used to the things you're used to. You're going to have to rebuild all those muscles you designed for a specific purpose, such as gestures for spellcasting. It'll be annoying, but at least you're alive, eh?"

"How?" mumbled Pharaun. It was still difficult to think of coherent sentences, much less the witty replies he was used to.

Aliisza pointed to the body on the floor. "Memhast, a necromancer with some pretty radical ideas. He was able to rebuild a body for you using your finger that I recovered. He then was able to call your spirit back and put it into this body. Pretty clever of me, huh?" She kissed him passionately, which Pharaun returned as best he could, but his lips were unused to such things.

"Sorry," he muttered.

She smiled a perfectly wicked smile. "All in good time, my precious little drowling. I'm not giving up on you yet. In a few weeks, I'm sure you'll be just magnificent."

Pharaun flexed his hands; the skin was tight. He had just endured hell.

He smiled.

But he was back.


	2. Chapter 2 Knickknacks

**Chapter Two**

_Knickknacks_

Pharaun staggered about the room unsteadily, trying to build up the muscles in his legs. Aliisza lounged on the stark wooden table as if it were a divan, watching him as a protective mother cat regards a precariously-balanced kitten.

"So this Memhast, you said he was a mage of some sort, right?" questioned Pharaun, blinking furiously to slow the world's spinning. It was like enduring a hangover while being pitched about on a particularly unruly riding lizard.

"A necromancer," said Aliisza, fluttering her wings distastefully. "You know the type: Skulls, zombies, and all those icky things. He seemed the right man for the job, though. I thought it might be worthwhile not to kill him and see how else he could be of use, but…I was bored, and he wouldn't stop staring at me." She smiled maliciously. "Not that I don't mind people looking, but his intentions seemed about to go beyond that…and he was icky, like I said."

"I've killed for less," said Pharaun. "…And been killed for less." He stumbled, and threw his hands out for support. Aliisza was there in an instant, but he had already broken his fall by grabbing onto a nearby desk. "I thank you for your alertness, dearest," he said, attempting a smile, but it hurt his face. "However, I will be fine on my own."

"Whatever you say," pouted Aliisza fickly. "I'm going to look at the sparkles while you make a fool out of yourself." With that, she strode across the room and out the stone doorway, slamming the solid wooden door behind her.

Pharaun stared after her. _Sparkles?_ But he was soon distracted. When he had broken his fall, his hand had fallen on a small circular object that he was eager to inspect. It turned out to be a ring. He tried to recite a spell that would reveal its function, if any, but nothing happened. He doubted that it was an ordinary ring; he could practically smell the magic radiating off it. But his spell had failed. The only thing he could think of was that his voice was not yet back to normal, or he had not yet achieved the correct mindset so soon after his recovery. _Note to self_, he thought. _Never be resurrected unless absolutely necessary_.

His mage instincts screamed at him not to do what he did, but he was feeling somewhat reckless. He slipped the ring to his finger and willed whatever enchantment locked therein to activate, not knowing if would be a simple lulling charm or a potent self-destruct device…

He floated into the air.

He let out a sigh, not realizing he had been holding his breath. It was a Ring of Flying, much like the one Quenthel had dispelled right before she had left him for spider food.

Relieved, he deactivated the enchantment, but left the ring on his finger. Useful things, magic flying rings were.

For the next twenty minutes he slowly made his way around the room collecting spell components and a few potions he recognized. Stuffing them into a handy many-compartmented bag he had discovered under the body of the unfortunate necromancer, he was soon humming merrily, attempting once or twice to whistle before being forced to accept that his newly-reconstructed lips would allow him to do no such thing.

He nearly danced a jig when he came across a small box filled with about half a dozen wands. He eagerly placed them in his new bag for later inspection (he was not so brash as to wave about strange wands!)

He groaned when he found the necromancer's wardrobe, however. The man had extremely little taste in fashion. Everything was uniform black; he didn't have anything against black, but he did enjoy a little variety. Also, the cuts of the cloth were several years behind the latest vogue.

Sighing with distaste, Pharaun put on the new clothes. They were too big, but at least they weren't bloodstained. After hitching up the hem of his robes with a couple of safety pins so he wouldn't constantly trip over them, he decided that he had stripped the dwelling of all its wizardly usefulness.

His spirits soaring with new confidence, he left to join Aliisza.

He found her just outside the door, giggling in a very undemonlike way. Before her was a small globe of light, constantly shifting colors. This, however, was only a means to an end. They stood in the middle of a large cavern, about a tenth of the size of Menzoberranzan. Nearly every square inch of the walls were studded with every shade of quartz and similar crystals. The alu-fiend laughed girlishly as her magelight caused the breathtaking walls to shimmer and…well…_sparkle_.

"Isn't it gorgeous!" she said elatedly.

"Very much so," Pharaun responded blandly. It amused him to think of the dichotomy that this creature beside him so fascinated by glittering crystals could slaughter villages without so much as a twinge of conscience.

"So what are you going to do now, Mr. Back-From-The-Dead?" asked the half demon innocently after a few more minutes of light manipulation.

"Oh…" said Pharaun, feigning deep thoughtfulness, "I figured I'd call upon some old friends. Do you know where I might find dearest Quenthel?"

Aliisza shrieked with delight and clapped her hands. "Oh sweetie," she said huskily, "you _are_ bad."


End file.
